


Taken to Task

by thyrza



Series: Assemble, Disassemble, Reassemble [2]
Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Blow Job, Earth-TRN123, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, More than Friends with Benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thyrza/pseuds/thyrza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP, Post-Episode S01E17, 'Savages' ... Tony is battered and bruised after a poorly thought out camping trip to the Savage Land. Steve kisses it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken to Task

**Author's Note:**

> Set after episode S01E17, 'Savages.' Spoilers for that episode, so beware.
> 
> If you want to read in spite of spoilers but haven't seen the episode, all you really need to know is that Tony and Steve had one of their usual arguments about Tony's huge reliance on technology, and Tony's response was to take himself, Steve, Clint, and Sam camping - without any weapons or other tech - in the Savage Land, where Justin Hammer happened to be chilling with some dinosaurs and mining vibranium. You can imagine just how well that went.
> 
> Takes place in the same continuity as my earlier story, [Baseline Versatility](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1277452), but you don't necessarily need to have read that one to read this one.

* * *

 

 

Another day, another encounter with Justin Hammer, and Tony hated to say it, but Hammer was starting to step up his game in his efforts to join the Cabal. That childish desire was making Hammer dangerous, rather than just laughable; eventually, the Avengers would need to do something to make sure he was shut down for good, but it was a difficult matter, when the rest of the villains from whom the Cabal was comprised were such a distraction.

Tony brooded over his options during the flight home, and promptly had every thought fly from his mind as soon as he saw the wreck of the penthouse at the hands of Thor and the Hulk. The destruction provided a good distraction, at least; Tony was able to slink off while the others weren't looking, and rather than heading down to his workshop this time, he just shed the armor and retreated into his bedroom.

Tony's entire body felt like one big bruise at this point, after being slammed around in the jungle without any armor. He didn't like admitting to his own shortcomings, but Tony knew that out of the armor, he was outmatched in physical prowess by pretty much all the other members of the team, even the ones who were regular human beings.

Steve often chided Tony about relying too heavily on the armor, telling him that he should consider a better diet and regular exercise; more often than not, Tony begged off on their sparring sessions by claiming he had so much work to do. And, to be fair, he usually did, because otherwise it would take quite a lot to convince him he had something better to do than watch Steve get all hot and sweaty while they tossed each other around.

Tony peeled out of his torn clothes and left them in a heap on the bathroom floor, and dozed his way through a shower, spent mostly leaning against the tile with his eyes closed. He half-heartedly scrubbed at his skin, but for the most part let the pounding spray of the shower blast off any dirt and ease his aching muscles.

Tony basked under the heat lamp like a big lizard rather than trying to maneuver his limbs into operating a towel, and he was half-asleep and mostly dry by the time he finished brushing his teeth. The bed was an appealing heap of softness, and Tony let himself fall face first into the pillows, his body protesting only a little as it collided with the squashy mattress.

He was just on the edge of unconsciousness, ready to embrace the blackness behind his eyelids, when someone knocked on the door.

Tony grunted softly, deciding to ignore it; maybe whoever it was would go away --

"Tony?" Steve called, on the other side of the door.

Tony sighed to himself. He had been hoping to avoid a lecture from Steve, especially on the heels of the bet he practically lost, but really, Tony knew it was unfair to blame Steve for that.

"Mm ... yeah, Cap?" Tony called, making an effort to sound more awake, and probably failing miserably.

The door opened quietly and Steve stepped in. "I brought you some - _oh_."

Tony blinked at the sudden stop, and remembered he had bothered neither to put on any clothes, nor to get under the covers. Trust Steve to have been balls deep in a guy, but still act like he had never unexpectedly seen a naked man before.

Steve cleared his throat and closed the door, clearly determined to try again. "I brought you some aspirin."

Tony was pretty sure he needed a lot more than aspirin right now, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"Thanks," he said.

Steve walked over to the side of the bed, and set down a glass of water and a pair of pills on the nightstand. He must have recently showered, too, judging from the loose pajama pants Tony could see from the knee down where Steve stood. He was barefoot, too, which was sort of cute.

"I thought you might be a little sore after all that," Steve said. He knelt down to be eye level with Tony, and placed a gentle hand on the back of Tony's neck. "How bad is it?"

Tony waffled for a moment between disdain for the idea of Steve's pity, and desperately wanting the comfort being freely offered. He finally went for the comfort (he was a hedonist, after all) and admitted, "I think my bruises have bruises."

"Hmm." Steve rubbed lightly at Tony's neck, thumb and forefinger offering the barest pressure. "You actually don't have any bruises yet. I'm sure it'll be a few hours before they start to surface."

"Thanks," Tony mumbled into the pillow. "That's ... so helpful."

"Here," Steve said. "Take these, they'll help a little."

What Steve called aspirin looked, on closer inspection, more like the best over the counter stuff you could get for a headache. He'd probably gotten them from Clint or Sam, since Captain America didn't really do headaches. Tony didn't ask, he just pushed himself up from the pillows and dutifully swallowed both pills, washing them down with half the glass of water, under Steve's supervision.

"Do you know what else would help?" Tony asked, after he'd lowered himself onto the bed again.

"Hmm?"

"An orgasm."

Steve looked unimpressed. "I'm not aggravating the bruises on your bruises with sex," he said.

Tony made a grouchy noise, but it was pretty half-hearted. "Fine," he conceded. "What about a gentle, non-bruise-aggravating cuddle?"

"I think that can be arranged." Steve was obviously trying to sound stern, but it was ruined by the fact he was smiling. He stood up, and his feet left Tony's field of vision, but Tony was still a little surprised when the foot of the bed, rather than the other side, dipped under Steve's weight.

The first touch of Steve's hands, to each of his feet, sent an anticipatory shiver running down Tony's spine. Steve's touch was careful, the pressure that he applied to the arches of Tony's feet gentle but firm. Tony was a sucker for a foot rub, like anyone with a job that had them on their feet a lot, and Steve was good at it, his big hands more precise and skilled than his appearance would let on.

Steve was systematic, moving up to Tony's ankles and then his calves, pausing whenever he found a stubborn knot of muscle, taking the time to ease the tension away. When Steve reached Tony's thighs, and eventually slid up the bed to straddle Tony's legs and work on his glutes and lower back, Tony discovered that he was not, in fact, too tired to get aroused. His cock twitched against the sheets with interest, even as the rest of his body loosened up.

Steve continued on as if completely unaware of this development, settling in to massage Tony's shoulders, where the worst of the tension was centered. Tony made a soft, pained noise when Steve's thumbs dug in on a particularly bad spot, and Steve leaned in to kiss the back of his neck.

"Should I stop?" he asked softly.

Tony shook his head a little. "No, it's good. Keep going."

By the time Steve was finished, Tony felt a weird combination of aroused and boneless, melted into the mattress and far too comfortable to move. He turned his head on the pillow in his best half-hearted attempt to look at Steve.

"Does it feel a little better now?" Steve asked.

"I feel amazing," Tony answered without hesitation. "Are you sure giving an amazing massage isn't your secret secondary superpower?"

Steve laughed, the sound low and warm. "Pretty sure that wasn't one of the side effects of the serum," he said, sliding his hands down Tony's back again.

Tony sighed with pleasure, happy and content that Steve hadn't stopped touching.

Steve's pause was a heavy one, though, and he broke the silence a moment later with, "You saved my life back there, with Hammer."

Tony bit back a groan of annoyance; he really did not want to be having this conversation right now. "All in a day's work," he said, trying to deflect the topic.

Tony must have tensed as soon as the subject was brought up, because Steve's hands went back to work trying to ease the tautness of his spine.

"No," Steve said quietly, and this wasn't his lecture voice, it was ... something else. "Tony ..."

"Are you about to break up with me?" Tony wondered abruptly. He wasn't sure why those were the words that came out of his mouth, but now there was no taking it back, and he was a little concerned that he had given Steve such an easy opening. There was nothing to do now but own it. "Because if you are, I mean, you don't have to ease me into it, I can --"

" _Tony_ ," Steve said sharply. "Stop."

Tony stopped, shutting his mouth with an audible click.

"I'm not breaking up with you," Steve went on, more gently now. "But I _am_ worried that you keep putting yourself between me and dangerous situations."

"I don't --" Tony began, but he was cut off by Steve's heavy sigh.

"I don't want to be a liability for you," Steve said. "The Avengers work because we function like a well-oiled machine. I can't be the rusty cog you have to ... keep unsticking."

Tony pulled a face. "Your metaphor needs some work, Cap."

"Tony," Steve said, exasperation creeping into his tone.

Tony sighed. "I see your point, okay? But, Steve ... I'm not just doing it because it's you. You're great incentive, don't get me wrong, but - my brain doesn't work that way. I see a teammate in the line of fire and I'm not thinking about whether they're better able to take the hit than I am, I'm thinking about doing what I can to keep a bad situation from getting worse."

Steve was silent for a long moment, even his hands stilling at their work. When he moved again, it was to shift away from Tony, and Tony worried he had said the wrong thing, that Steve really was about to leave, but Steve settled beside Tony instead.

Tony rolled onto his side to look up at Steve, and was surprised when Steve reached out and took one of his hands.

"That's fair," Steve conceded. "I can't say I don't do the same thing, to some extent. Will you promise me, though, that you'll try to be more careful?"

"I'll stop flying in front of things when you stop getting in the way all the time," Tony answered.

That actually brought a flush rising to Steve's cheeks. "Okay," he said. "You've made your point. I'm sorry I brought it up. I just suppose I've been more ... attuned to notice this sort of thing lately."

"The Red Skull _dropped you out of the tricarrier_ ," Tony said, exasperated in his own way now. "There's no way I was going to let him make Cap jam out of you."

Steve looked confused. "Cap ... jam ...?"

"Nevermind, bad joke," Tony said. He carefully pushed himself up to sit, and reached a hand out to rest on Steve's cheek. "Regardless of how I feel about you, Steve, the world would be a lot worse off without you. I know we let them get Hyperion, but we took him down once. We can do it again."

Steve's flush darkened, and he looked away, clearly self-conscious.

"Now," Tony said. "Do I still get that cuddle?"

Steve looked up at Tony, and his expression softened. "I guess so."

"Good." Tony grabbed the hem of Steve's shirt and began to pull it up.

"Do I need to have my clothes off to cuddle?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows. He looked like he was trying hard not to smile.

Tony pretended to think about it for a second. "Yes," he said, tugging the shirt up and, with Steve's assistance, over Steve's head. Tony hissed when raising his arms aggravated his muscle aches, and Steve laughed quietly.

"I'll get the rest," Steve said. "Don't hurt yourself."

Steve got up and stripped out of his pajama pants and his briefs, and left his clothes draped neatly on the chair by the bed. Tony stretched out on his side and watched, enjoying the view even in his tired state.

"Shouldn't we get under the covers?" Steve asked, as he sat on the bed again.

"Probably," Tony agreed, lazily rolling onto his stomach and making no purposeful move.

Steve shook his head a little, and reached out to stroke his hand down Tony's back again.

"Are you sure we can't come up with some non-bruise-aggravating way to have sex?" Tony asked, a little plaintively, as he looked up at Steve.

"I _shouldn't_ ," Steve said, even as his hand settled on the curve of Tony's ass. "But I have a hard time saying no to you."

Tony brightened, grinning. "I know."

"That would be part of the problem," Steve countered.

"I'll use it to my advantage as long as I can, if you don't mind," Tony answered.

"Hmm." Steve raised an eyebrow. "Turn over? I didn't get your front."

Tony rolled onto his back and tried not to vibrate with anticipation (mostly because he was too sore) when Steve moved closer. This time, Steve started at Tony's shoulders, massaging down his admittedly achy arms, and on to the muscles in his sides. Tony twitched as Steve's fingers skimmed his front, tickling along his abdominals, and he bit his lip to hold back a laugh.

Steve glanced up with a mischievous look on his face, but he was merciful and chose not to tickle Tony, likely aware that it would hardly be pleasant under the circumstances. Instead, Steve shifted his way further down Tony's body, until he was situated between Tony's legs, hands framing Tony's hips and breath warm where his mouth hovered tantalizingly close over Tony's straining erection.

Tony _might_ have made a completely undignified noise, something close to a whimper but definitely _not_ an actual whimper. (He was sticking to that story.)

Steve was, Tony had learned, far from a shy flower; he closed his mouth around Tony and didn't hesitate in taking him right in, his hand closing around the base of Tony's cock and stroking what of his length Steve could not comfortably fit. Which, admittedly, wasn't much; Steve was pretty enthusiastic about giving head, and liked to practice and hone his craft.

Tony slid his hands into Steve's hair, and tried not to feel guilty for the fact that he was just lying back and letting Steve do all the work. It was hard to hang on to any kind of negative feelings when Steve's tongue was doing such amazing things, at any rate. Tony thought he might be on the verge of forgetting his own name once Steve began to bob his head in a steady, unrelenting pace, and thoughts were gone entirely after slipped his hand down between Tony's legs and palmed at his balls.

After a torturously long moment spent with Tony teetering on the verge of orgasm, Steve tilted the angle of his head and swallowed Tony down all the way, until the head of Tony's cock bumped the back of Steve's throat. It was all so well-executed that Tony didn't even have the energy left to feel chagrined that the move drove him right over the edge.

Tony's climax rolled over him in a slow sweep rather than the usual punch, and he made a soft, satisfied noise as pleasurable warmth infused his tired limbs. His hands dropped from Steve's hair as Tony went boneless against the bed, and he had to concentrate hard on keeping his eyes open just to watch as Steve swallowed and licked him clean.

Steve pulled off Tony's softening cock with a smile, and maneuvered his way up the bed to give Tony a kiss. Tony tilted his head up to meet Steve, catching the taste of himself lingering on Steve's tongue. When they broke apart for a breath, Tony laughed in a quiet, sated way.

"That was amazing," he said.

"I try," Steve answered, as he shifted away to stretch out beside Tony.

Tony rolled onto his side to look at Steve, eyebrows raised as his eyes swept down Steve's body. "You didn't ... I mean, can I help you out with that?"

"You can watch," Steve said, with a distinctly mischievous note in his voice as he reached down to touch himself.

"I am ... surprisingly okay with that," Tony agreed, getting himself comfortably situated on a heap of pillows.

This, Steve was not shy about; in fact, Steve was actually shy about very little, and then usually just silly and seemingly inconsequential things. He _played_ very well at a certain bashfulness, though, all lowered lashes and coy glances back up at Tony while he stroked his cock.

Tony was too spent to even consider getting hard again, but he still felt a warm flush of arousal just in response to the erotic display. Steve was gorgeous, and quite unrestrained for a guy who grew up in a time when such a thing was still considered pretty taboo. That, really, just made it even hotter.

Steve spread his legs wide and slipped his free hand down to lightly finger his own hole; he tipped his head back against the headboard and moaned loudly, shamelessly, breath hitching with effort or maybe urgency as his other hand moved faster around his cock.

Tony thought nothing could top the blowjob Steve gave him earlier, but watching Steve bring himself off was somehow just as good, if not slightly better, and Tony watched with fascination as Steve finally came, lips parted and crying out softly.

It took a few seconds for Steve to regain his composure, to open his eyes and meet Tony's gaze again, and he smiled in a sly, conspiratorial way, as if aware of just the effect he'd had on Tony. Actually, he probably _was_ perfectly aware, since it occurred to Tony a moment later that he'd been staring with his mouth hanging open.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever only peripherally been a part of," Tony said, when it felt right to break the silence again.

Steve laughed, an exhilarated sound. " _Did_ an orgasm make it better?"

" _Two_ did, in fact," Tony said, grinning as he recalled his earlier words.

Steve leaned down and kissed him. "Good. You should get under the covers now, before you catch cold."

Tony rolled his eyes, but he did get motivated enough to wriggle under the sheets once Steve got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up.

Steve returned a few moments later and slid beneath the covers with Tony. He put his arms around Tony's waist and drew him in, until they lay close, spooning up together.

Steve's warmth at his back was perfect to soothe his many aches, and Tony was just drifting off to sleep when Steve asked, "Ah ... what happened to your closet?"

Tony opened his eyes and squinted across the room in confusion. His closet doors were hanging open, one broken off the top hinges, the other swinging with a doorknob snapped off. The shelf that had been running along the top of the closet was torn down on one end, and shoeboxes and other things Tony had forgotten were in there were scattered and leaking onto the floor.

"I ... have no idea how I didn't notice that earlier," Tony said.

Steve sighed softly, ruffling the hair on the back of Tony's neck. "I'm going to say we're due a talk with Thor and the Hulk."

"You know what?" Tony said. "I don't even wanna ask."

 

* * *

 


End file.
